


The Hobbits: A Somewhat Expected Journey

by Aida



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Time Travel, BAMF!Bilbo, BAMF!Frodo, Eventual BAMF!Bilbo anyway, Frodo's the time traveller, Humor, Multi, Romance, Sassy Hobbits, Slow Burn, So AU it'll make your head spin
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-17
Updated: 2014-06-25
Packaged: 2018-01-12 18:36:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1195323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aida/pseuds/Aida
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Frodo sailed off to the Undying Lands, he did not expect to be sent back in time after his Uncle passed away. But Bilbo Baggins had regrets, and he wanted to do what he could to fix them. </p><p>He just didn't know things would be changing for him as well.</p><p>(An AU where Frodo goes back in time to help his Uncle Bilbo, all the while inadvertently roping himself into the quest to reclaim Erebor as well.</p><p>AKA: A plot bunny that rampaged like a jack rabbit throughout my head until it got the full story it felt like it deserved.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I think this idea was planted after seeing a GIF set on Tumblr where Frodo went back in time and visited Bilbo. It has been some time before I saw that GIF set, and since then, this story has fully bloomed and taken over my head.
> 
> Writing this chapter was tortuous in so many ways, so it might not be that great, or flow that well. But I hope latter chapters will make up for it.

When Frodo had sailed to the lands of the West, a weight had lifted off his shoulders, and aching wounds had healed over. Even for his Uncle Bilbo, before he passed on, he had seemed so much lighter on his feet. Still, his uncle had regrets, most of them drawing back to the quest he took part in. Of the people he lost and those he drifted from. Such things that made Frodo ache for his uncle, even when he told him the tales when he was a faunt.

After Bilbo Baggins passed on, Frodo wanted desperately to make things right.

He had no idea, though, that the Valar would hear him. That he would wake up one day and be back in the Shire. Would walk up to Bag End and meet an uncle that was decades younger than he ever remembered him being.

It, of course, took him forever to convince Bilbo that he really was his nephew (cousin, really) through the green door after the older hobbit promptly slammed it into his face. Took many tales and songs that his old Uncle taught him before Bilbo opened the door, rather pale and frazzled, and allowed him to enter and have tea. Or rather, the poor hobbit fainted and Frodo had to help him inside. The tea came afterwards.

Now, though. Now Frodo told his Uncle a different story.

“So, I went on an adventure…?” Bilbo drawled slowly, brows furrowed.

“Yes, you did.” Frodo replied.

“After thirteen dwarves and a wizard arrived here unannounced…”

“Yes.”

“And we went on a quest to defeat a _dragon_.”

“Smaug, to be more specific. One of the greatest calamities of this world.”

“And… And you’re telling me this… So I am fully prepared?” Bilbo continued warily. “So I can go on this quest and perhaps change the future… for the better…?”

“If we can.” He replied, staring down at his tea. “I know that you wanted to do that…”

“How do you know that?”

Frodo gave him a small, tight smile, recalling his Uncle’s last words. “You told me.”

He heard Bilbo let out a breath he was apparently holding, seeing his knuckles turn white. “That is… _completely_ …!” He sputtered out, looking at Frodo with wild eyes. “There’s just no way I would agree to that! It sounds horrifically dangerous! And do you know how many meals I’d miss? No, I couldn’t do that! I’m a Baggins of Bag End!”

“You’re also a Took!” Frodo insisted, even when Bilbo scoffed. “And you told me that you had always wanted an adventure!”

“When I wanted an adventure, I was a _child_.” Bilbo insisted. “I’m all grown up now, and-!”

“Living all alone and still wanting it! I know you, Uncle!”

“Clearly, you don’t know me well enough!” 

Frodo stiffened a little, watching as his uncle, this younger Bilbo, tighten his hands into fists.

“I need air.” Bilbo finally quipped, stumbling out of his seat and heading for the door. “And I… I need my pipe.”

“Bilbo, please!” Frodo pleaded, following him down the round halls. “If I did not think it would be good for you, I would not plead to you! If I thought for a second that embarking on such an adventure damaged you so, I would not urge you to go now!”

Bilbo had stopped by the door, now, pipe clutched tightly in hand as his other one shook. 

“I can’t…” He muttered. “I can’t…!”

He took a deep breath, and Frodo held his breath when the eyes of the hobbit that was not yet his uncle rounded on him.

“Feel free to make yourself comfortable.” Bilbo muttered. “I just… I just need to think!”

With that, Bilbo stepped outside and shut the door behind him with more force than was strictly necessary. Frodo couldn’t help but feel defeat creep in on him like a chill as he let out a shaky sigh. 

He probably should never have told this Bilbo about the quest. Should have just spent what time he could in peace with him before urging him to sign the contract when the dwarves would inevitably show up. 

With a final glance towards the door, Frodo decided to make himself useful. He picked up the furniture and knick knacks that were knocked over when Bilbo fainted and Frodo had to drag him inside. He then rinsed out the wares they had with tea and put them away, putting what food was left out in storage for later. This Bilbo seemed to keep his kitchen relatively clean, so he only did some dusting, if only to distract him from the harried state Bilbo was in at the moment.

He had just finished going over the table a second time when the door burst open and slammed shut once again. Concerned, Frodo dropped the rag and hurried to the door.

“Uncle Bilbo, what-?” He started, only to pause when he saw Bilbo pressing himself firmly against the door. “What’s wrong? What did you see?”

“Nothing! Nothing to… worry about too much…” Bilbo muttered, stepping away from the door, only to move to a window to peer outside. “Just… Just unwelcome visitors, is all.”

Frodo frowned, wanting to get a glance himself, but with a squeak Bilbo rushed to hide in the hall, dragging the displaced hobbit with him. He was a little late in doing so, since Frodo managed to catch a glimpse of a familiar pair of eyes that held wisdom far beyond his imagination.

“Was that Gandalf?” He asked, unable to hide his excitement. “Really? He hasn’t changed at all!”

“You know-? Wait, of course you know him.” Bilbo groused, daring a peek towards the window. “I… I think he’s gone, now…”

“What did he come here for?” Frodo couldn’t help but ask. From the way his uncle stiffened before daring to glance at him, he managed to guess. “He came to ask you to join him on an adventure, didn’t he?”

He got a strange noise between a whimper and a groan in response.

“Well, I did try to warn you, didn’t I?” Frodo pressed, following Bilbo as he headed for the kitchen.

“Oh, shut up!”

“It’s not my fault you didn’t heed my words.” Frodo continued, sounding far too pleased with himself. “I’m just a hobbit lad from the future, after all.”

“Yes, yes! I can tell that you’re oh-so-pleased with yourself!” Bilbo snapped, and Frodo immediately sobered.

“Right, sorry.” He muttered, watching as Bilbo began to pace.

“One week.” Bilbo muttered after a pause, even as he stroked the now-clean table with his fingers. 

Frodo frowned, a little confused. “Pardon?”

“I urged Gandalf to return a week from today. For dinner.” He explained. “I have no doubt he’s going to bring those dwarves that you talked about, so we have one week to prepare for… oh… how many guests?”

“Fourteen, including Gandalf.” Frodo answered, getting another strange noise.

“Oh, that’s far too…! You know what? Nevermind.” Bilbo groused. “Either way, we have one week to prepare for _fourteen_ guests to stomp through my smial and raid my pantry!”

“Okay, but…” He muttered. “’We’?”

Bilbo sent him a look. “Of course!” He stated. “You’re the one who came to me in the first place! I highly doubt you’re just going to up and leave me to deal with this mess alone! Besides, I highly doubt you have a place to go, now, so you might as well be staying here and making yourself useful!”

Frodo couldn’t help but laugh, for this Bilbo was starting to sound more and more like his Uncle with ever passing second. “Right, of course.” He replied. “Well, if anything, we can start with some training.”

Bilbo seemed to grow sick at the mere thought. “Training?”

“Well, you’re to go on an adventure, so of course you need at least _some_ training.” Frodo explained. “Granted, I’m no expert myself. But I had… friends, who helped me, and you before that. And, from what you told me, a dear friend taught you, and they were a master at weaponry.”

He watched as Bilbo frowned, for he knew his explanation was vague. But he couldn’t risk telling him of his own quest. The quest to destroy the One Ring that he would soon inadvertently pick up. Bad enough he told Bilbo what information he thought he could spare. That, and such memories were still a hair too painful to speak of out loud. For it was Boromir that was in charge of teaching Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin how to fight. His friend’s death was still too sore of a subject to dwell on for long. 

“I suppose I have no choice.” Bilbo eventually groused. “So, aside from meal planning, you will be training me. And…”

Frodo frowned as he paused, stroking the table. “And what?”

“And learning how to clean.” Bilbo eventually stressed, holding up one of his fingers. “You’re truly horrible at it.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there is food, and the Company begins to arrive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter is LOOOOONG! But I couldn't help but figure, "hey, why not?"
> 
> Hopefully the next chapter won't be as long. So, no, long chapters probably won't be a constant thing here. Sorry if that disappoints anyone.

Before Frodo had travelled to the West, a week’s time was always hard to catalogue. Sometimes a week would pass by before he knew it, and other times they dragged on, almost painfully so, in a metaphorical and sometimes literal sense. This time, it was rather fast-paced, with a few exceptions. Training his Uncle, for example, was rather harrying. He hated the mere thought of handling a sword, but Frodo encouraged him nonetheless. He wanted desperately to teach his Uncle some archery, for Bilbo always had the keenest eyesight and accuracy, but Frodo didn’t have a single clue as to how to go about it. 

Still, he managed to teach Bilbo what basics he knew, and got them both some spare blades from a merchant at the market hoping to get lucky with those who were willing to buy (not many were, aside from Frodo himself, but he knew that many Tooks probably visited his stall, at the least). That, coupled with planning the meal, shopping for said meal, and arranging the dining room so that it could probably fit at least thirteen dwarves and a wizard without too much difficulty, it was a harrying, fast-passing week.

“Frodo!” 

Said hobbit jumped at the sound of his name. “Yes, Bilbo?”

“Your head was in the clouds again.” He chided.

Frodo smiled apologetically. “Apologies. I guess it likes being up there.” He replied. “Was there something you needed?”

“I need your help in moving some of these dishes into the dining room.” Bilbo ordered, and Frodo rushed to comply. “I’m sure they’ll be here soon. No point in leaving them to stay warm any longer.”

It wasn’t necessarily a hard task, but it was quite distracting. For Bilbo was always a fine cook, and it had been quite some time since he tasted anything he prepared (especially in later years, when he sometimes found it far too difficult to hold one of his favored skillets). 

“Do you think this will be enough?” Bilbo asked once they laid them out.

“I’d suppose so.” Frodo replied. “You did tell me once that a dwarf’s appetite could rival that of a hobbit’s, even though they ate fewer meals than we do.”

The older hobbit sighed, running fingers through his frazzled hair. “I don’t even know what dwarves like to _eat_!”

“As long as it’s not green and moldy, they’ll eat it.” He answered. “Truly, Bilbo, I think this is enough.”

“Well, I hope so…” Bilbo muttered. “I mean, for all we know, they probably won’t even show up! And wouldn’t that be a lucky thing?”

Frodo frowned, about to tell him that such a thing was highly unlikely, but he was cut off when the bell rang.

He watched Bilbo pale. “Oh no… Oh no…!” He hissed, clearly panicking. “Oh, they’re _early_! That’s even worse than being late! I mean, for Eru’s sake, I’m still in my bloody housecoat!”

“It’s not like it really _matters_ , Bilbo!” Frodo chastised. “They’re dwarves, not elves!”

“Still…!” Billbo sputtered. “Oh… Oh, I don’t think I can do this!”

“Yes you can!” He urged, grabbing Bilbo’s shoulders and shaking him a little. “Because you’re Bilbo Baggins, and you have-or rather, you _will_ do, a great deal of impossible things. Now, breathe…”

Bilbo did as he asked, even though his exhale sounded a little too shuddery. 

“And remember: They might be big, but this is your home. Do not let them step all over you. Treat them with respect, and make them respect you if they try not to.” Frodo continued, getting a small nod in response. “And also: We’re cousins. Plain and simple. Unless they really press for it, that’s all they’ll really need to know.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Bilbo muttered, wincing when the bell rang again, but louder this time. “Must I really answer the door right now?”

“Yes.” Frodo quipped. “If anything, my presence should barely be noted. I’ll introduce myself, since it’s necessary, but other than that, well…”

“I’m on my own…” Bilbo groused, making sure his housecoat was secure, heading for the door just as the bell rang for the third time.

Frodo stayed where he was for all of two seconds before he practically ran to the door himself. It seemed silly, but he always wanted to meet the dwarves his uncle travelled with. Sure, he met Master Gloin (whom he was sure to see later this evening), but he never really met anyone else besides that. 

Upon reaching the door, however, he was a bit thrown. For Bilbo had opened it, and a rather fearsome-looking dwarf was on the other side. 

“Dwalin, at your service.” The dwarf greeted with a slow, deep bow, and Frodo felt his eyes widen even further.

Because he remembered his Uncle’s tales well enough. Remembered that Dwalin was one of the kindest, wisest dwarves in the Company, save his brother (and Frodo knew of Balin’s fate all too well). It seemed odd, since Frodo had pictured him quite differently in his mind. He certainly wasn’t as big as a small Man in his head, that was sure. Nor did he seem the type to have rippling with muscles, riddled with tattoos, scars, and a torn ear. 

He was torn from his thoughts when he heard Bilbo make a peculiar noise (a noise he was getting familiar with) before he made sure his housecoat was still secure. “Bilbo Baggins, at yours. And… er…”

“And Frodo Baggins!” Frodo cut in, rushing to Bilbo’s side. “At your service as well, Master Dwalin.”

The large dwarf sent him a strange look before looking towards Bilbo again. “The wizard never told us you had a spouse.”

“W-What?” Bilbo sputtered, looking at Frodo. “Who, him? Oh! Oh, no! He’s-.”

“Cousins.” Frodo cut in. “We’re merely cousins.”

“Cousins,” Dwalin repeated. “Very well.”

With that, the dwarf then merely brushed past them, leaving Bilbo rather bewildered and Frodo feeling rather put out.

“Where is it, then?” The dwarf asked.

“Where’s what?” Bilbo asked.

“The food,” He continued. “The wizard promised there would be food.”

“Ah, yes, the food.” Bilbo replied. “Well, it’s in the dining room, which is down the hall, and-.”

“Much obliged.”

Frodo was fuming as the large dwarf started to walk down the hall. He knew that the dwarves weren’t necessarily the friendliest in the beginning, but this was ridiculous! They were guests! Surely all of Arda’s creatures knew some basic manners!

“N-Now wait just a minute, here!” Bilbo snapped before Frodo got the chance, and he watched as Bilbo reached out and grabbed Dwalin’s cloak. 

When Dwalin turned towards him, Frodo was sure that Bilbo would lose his nerve. He looked like he was about to just tell the dwarf to forget it. To let him continue. But Bilbo’s brow furrowed and he let go of the green fabric to put fists on his hips.

“Look, I can understand that you’ve been travelling quite a bit, and that you’re rather hungry. I can tell just from looking at your clothes that you haven’t had a decent meal in quite some time!” He continued. “But you are still a guest in my house, and I require you to do some things before you go and eat your fill!”

Something darkened in Dwalin’s eyes as he seemed to grow even taller, facing Bilbo head on. “And what would you have me do, Master Hobbit?”

Bilbo scoffed, clearly on a roll. “Nothing truly preposterous, I assure you.” He explained. “First off, there will be no weapons past the entranceway. We hobbits are generally a peaceful folk, and on the incredibly rare instances that we entertain those with weaponry, it’s considered courteous for a warrior as yourself to leave your weapons by the door.”

For a minute, the dwarf seemed a little thrown. As if he was expecting some horrific demands of his person before he was allowed a meal. He sent both Frodo and Bilbo looks before he returned to the door, removing his cloak to be hanged and resting his axes, a hammer, and a couple of knives near Great Aunt Belladonna’s old glory box.

“While I can understand such matters, little masters.” He spoke, his tone smoothed out greatly. “There are to be about a dozen more of us arriving. It’ll be rather hectic if we all were to just leave our armaments here.”

Bilbo let out a great gust of air, and Frodo piped in. “We can move them to one of the guest rooms.” He supplied. “You can retrieve them from there before you go to bed.”

“Will that be alright for you, Master Dwalin?” Bilbo enquired, and the dwarf nodded.

“Very well.” He answered. “Now, where is the food again?”

Bilbo just frowned before gesturing to the dwarf’s hands. “No one, hobbit, dwarf or otherwise, goes to a dining table with dirty hands.” He quipped, turning to Frodo. “Would you mind showing Master Dwalin where the guest bath is? He can wash up there.”

“Sure.” Frodo replied, looking up at the dwarf. “Follow me, it’s right this way.”

As soon as they were out of earshot, Frodo fought the urge to tense when Dwalin leaned over him. “Are you sure you are not married?”

Frodo snorted. “No, we are most definitely not.” He replied. “He’s like a father to me. Uncle, really. I’ve known him since I was a faunt.”

Dwalin snorted and he frowned. “Why do you ask?”

“He acts very much like a small, fussy wife.”

Frodo snorted as well before he could help himself. “You best make sure he never hears you say that.” He told Dwalin. “Small and fussy he might seem, but you do not want to be on his bad side.”

Dwalin sent Frodo a look, clearly stating he didn’t believe it. “Oh, really?”

“Just ask the Sackville-Bagginses. They’ll tell you a thing or two.” He replied, opening the door to the guest bath. “You can wash up in here. Afterwards, just head for the dining room. You can follow your nose easily enough.”

Dwalin blinked a few times before giving Frodo a small nod. “Thank you, Master Baggins.”

“Frodo.” He corrected. “Just Frodo’s fine. Master Baggins is my Un-Cousin…”

The large dwarf didn’t seem to notice his little slip, for he just nodded again before going into the bathroom and shutting the door. 

When he met up with Bilbo, he seemed rather frazzled. Hands on his knees as he seemed to take a few deep breaths.

“Everything alright?” He asked, causing wide green eyes to look at him.

“I don’t know how I would’ve done this without you around.” Bilbo remarked. “I was sure that he was going to chop my head off at some point!”

“Nonsense!” Frodo replied. “I mean, yes, he does seem rather intimidating. But I’m sure he’s relatively nice once you get to know him. That’s what you told me, anyway.”

“Hmm…”

“And besides, you’re the host.” He continued. “Even if he did chop your head off, I’m sure the rest of the Company would be rather displeased and put off.”

That, at least, got a snort, but such amusement didn’t last long when the bell rang again.

“Oh, I don’t think I could do that again.” Bilbo muttered, looking at Frodo with pleading eyes. 

“Just the one, then.” Frodo told him. “You have the rest.”

Bilbo just nodded in agreement, walking over and opening the door. The dwarf, this time, was not as intimidating as the first. In fact, the white-haired dwarf sent him a friendly smile. 

“Evening!” The dwarf greeted before bowing. “Balin, at your service.”

Frodo was brought back, then. To the dark mines of Moria, where bodies old and decayed laid at their feet. Of a tomb and a book. Of a troll, orcs, and goblins. Of Gandalf telling them to fly before falling. Of Gimli who howled with grief.

Instead of fainting like his uncle, he swallowed around the lump in his throat and forced a smile of his own. “Good evening.” He managed to great with a steady voice.

“Oh, yes, it is, isn’t it?” Balin replied, and Frodo almost laughed. “Although, I expect that it will rain, soon.”

“It’s likely.” He answered, stepping aside. “Won’t you come in?”

Balin thanked him, stepping inside, casting a curious eye towards Dwalin’s things by the door and an even curiouser eye towards Bilbo.

“Oh, I didn’t know there were two.” Balin remarked. “I’m glad I brought extras, now.”

Frodo frowned. “Extra what?”

“Brother!” A voice boomed before Balin could reply, and they turned to see Dwalin striding back from the bathroom.

“Evening, brother!” The older dwarf replied, causing a chuckle to rumble through Dwalin as Bilbo watched it all with wide eyes.

“You’re shorter since I saw you last.” The large dwarf quipped.

“Wider, not shorter.” Balin corrected. “But smart enough for the both of us. And, oh, what’s this? Clean hands before dinner? I don’t think I’ve ever seen them like that since you were a child!”

Frodo bit back a laugh while Bilbo barely covered his own, causing both dwarves to look at them.

“They told me I would not eat if I didn’t clean them.” Dwalin remarked, and Frodo couldn’t help but think he sounded like the child Balin was describing. “You’d think that they were married, but they’re just cousins.”

“Well, either way, I can only thank them.” Balin remarked, grinning towards the hobbits. “If only for accomplishing what I haven’t been able to do in years.”

He laughed this time, and saw some of the tension leak from Bilbo’s form.

In truth, it didn’t seem that the evening would be as bad as his Uncle said it would be.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More dwarves arrive, and Frodo dodges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I've been sick these past few days (still sick actually), and I've just managed to go back to my fics and continue working on them. And I mean just started, which is basically "tapped out a few sentences for ONE FIC". I haven't even tried to work on The Early Years.
> 
> Anyway, sorry if some parts don't make sense, and that it's a wee bit short. As I said, I'm sick and have meds in me, so my brain's a little muddled.

It was bad.

Truly, it wasn’t as bad as his Uncle had claimed it to be, but it was still rather harrying to watch the two dwarves look at the literal feast spread out before them and offer critiques. Critiques! Why, he slaved over the food with Bilbo, and the table was truly covered with it! Surely it was enough to meet their fussy standards.

“There’s not enough meat, here.” Dwalin cut in.

“Not enough _meat_?” Frodo parroted. “There’s sausages, ham, turkey… And that’s not even counting the stuffed-!”

“There’s plenty.” Balin cut in, giving Frodo a wan smile as he adjusted the chairs to afford more space. “My brother just thinks one can survive solely on meat and potatoes.”

“And what’s this?” Dwalin demanded, picking up a cheese tray. “Why, some of this cheese has mold in it! You serve all your guests moldy cheese?”

“Wh-Yes, we do!” He answered. “Because that cheese is _supposed_ to have mold in it! I-!”

“That’s my mother’s glory box! Don’t scrape your boots on it! Oh, for- Frodo!”

Frodo almost sighed in relief, thankful for the distraction. He excused himself before going into the hall, seeing that two more dwarves had arrived and left Bilbo burdened with a plethora of swords. Both were young, much younger than Balin and Dwalin seemed, so it wasn’t too hard to guess who they were supposed to be.

It was hard to imagine that they were supposed to die.

“Hello!” One greeted, all wild brown hair and bright teeth. “The wizard didn’t tell us there was another Boggins here.”

“Er-It’s Baggins. And I’m Frodo, Bilbo’s cousin, and-!”

“Well, I’m Fíli.” The other cut in, this one blonde.

“I’m Kíli!”

“At your service!”

Frodo had to blink a couple of times, for these dwarves and their similar names were bound to give him a headache. “T-That’s nice but why does my cousin have so many swords?”

“Blame him.” Bilbo muttered, somewhat darkly, as he sent a pointed look to the blonde. “Frodo, would you be so kind as to put these in the guest room?”

“Why can’t he do it?” Frodo asked, accepting the load of weaponry and almost dropping it right afterwards. “And why so many!?”

“Didn’t I tell you?” Kíli told his brother, who was frowning.

“It never hurts to be prepared.” Fíli replied.

“There’s a fine line between being prepared and bringing your entire stockpile!” Frodo quipped as he began to walk down the hall. “No swordsman that I knew carried so many weapons on his person at a time!”

“And did they live to tell the tale, Master Hobbit?”

He froze before he could stop himself, images of both Aragorn and Boromir flitting through his mind. Of Boromir specifically, and how their last meeting wasn’t the greatest. How they never had the chance to make amends. 

“Yes.” He finally replied, because one _did_ survive. “Yes, he did.”

All three of them were giving him looks, then, each with mixtures of confusion and concern. But the revelry was broken when Dwalin strode in and clapped the young dwarves on the shoulders. 

“Ah, Fíli, Kíli! About time you arrived.” The large dwarf greeted, steering them towards the dining room. “Come on, we have some things to do.”

“Good to see you again, Master Dwalin!”

“Why do they need to do more?” Bilbo asked, following Frodo as he went to put the swords away. “I thought we did quite well.”

“Balin agrees, but Dwalin’s a little fussier. Apparently.” He replied as Bilbo opened the door and he put the swords in a corner of the room. He got up to leave, but Bilbo stopped him.

“Frodo…” He pressed gently. “That swordsman… What really happened to him?”

He couldn’t help but stiffen. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… You seemed rather sad, talking about him.” Bilbo explained. “Are you… Did he really…?”

Frodo was saved from answering when the bell rang for the third time that evening.

“I think…” He said. “You should answer that, instead.”

Bilbo let out a loud sigh. “Confound the wizard and these dwarves!” He cried, marching to the door, and Frodo couldn’t help but chuckle as he ranted and raved before the door opened and the sound of several doors falling through the entryway hit his ears. 

Frodo laughed, shutting the door behind him and deciding to make himself scarce. Gandalf was there now, to be sure, and the wizard was bound to notice something odd about him. How he had no real right to be here. How he technically wasn’t even born yet.

So, as he heard Bilbo open the door and the following cries of shock and the thumping of bodies hitting the floor, Frodo made himself scarce.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there's food, singing, and Thorin arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG TO UPDATE. As you might've noticed, I've been writing other things and such. But here! Have this chapter!

In hindsight, trying to make oneself scarce when a dozen dwarves and a wizard invaded your Uncle-but-not-really-Uncle’s smial wasn’t the best of ideas. Granted, they stayed in one area for the most part, too hungry to think of exploring their host’s home; but there were times where Frodo was almost found. Not to mention that there was no way he was going to miss seeing the dwarves from his Uncle’s stories.

“Frodo!” Bilbo was another reason. “Frodo, what are you doing?”

“Staying out of the way.” He replied, ducking with Bilbo as a loaf of bread went sailing. 

“Yes, well, that’s all well and good in _theory_ , but-!” Bilbo hissed, wincing when another loud burst of laughter rang through the halls. “Look, just take these and hide them somewhere!”

Frodo immediately took the jar of jam into his hands. “Where?”

“ _Anywhere_!” He stressed. “So long as they don’t find it! I swear, with the rate they’re going, I don’t think there’ll be anything left!”

“At least we made an effort to provide for them before they raided the pantry.” Frodo answered, trying to think of the positives. “And at least they’re having fun.”

“Fun? _Fun_?” Bilbo sputtered. “I don’t-! You know what? Nevermind. Go hide the jam.”

Frodo bit back a laugh and moved to do just that, rushing through the halls and into Bilbo’s study where he tucked it away behind some books.

“Kíli! Catch!”

He frowned, stepping out of the pantry as he heard boot-clad feet stomp on the floor and silverware clang on dishes. He stayed hidden, only to freeze when he saw Kíli toss a plate one-handed towards a dwarf with an axe in his head. 

“Oh, please be careful!” Bilbo cried as Frodo made sure to stick to the shadows. “And-And can you not do that!? You’ll blunt them!”

“Oo, did you hear that lads? He says we’ll blunt the _knives_!”

Frodo watched it all with ringing ears and a thumping heart as the dwarves began to toss the dishes, bowls, and other wares around the rooms and halls. As they did what he had only heard second-hand from his Uncle before bed. As they began to sing about what Bilbo Baggins hated.

He couldn’t help but laugh as he watched them move and dance, as if they had been practicing their whole lives for this moment (of course, from what stories he’d heard, he didn’t doubt at least some of them have danced for their supper before). He felt bad for Bilbo, who looked ready to tear his hair out, but it was only a little bit. Especially since all the dishes and silverware were spotless and stacked neatly once it was over. As he laughed with them, and even Bilbo seemed amused by it all.

Then a knock on the door broke their revelry.

“He’s here.” Frodo heard Gandalf state cryptically, and he didn’t even have to guess who it was. 

He crept along the halls as the company moved with Bilbo and Gandalf to the front door, staying in the shadows as he watched Bilbo pull the door open to reveal Thorin Oakenshield, and he was as regal and majestic as his Uncle had said he was. Possibly even moreso, for his Uncle never said he had long, thick dark hair streaked with silver. Nor did he mention his piercing blue eyes that looked like the sky on a clear day. 

If Frodo were honest with himself, he had to admit that the uncrowned King Under the Mountain was very handsome, and he wondered if his Uncle thought the same. He then began to question how deep his friendship was for the dwarf, and if it went beyond being simple companions, Frodo wouldn’t blame him.

“Gandalf.” Thorin greeted, spotting the wizard first before striding in. “You said this place would be easy to find. I got lost twice along the way, and that’s even with the mark on the door.”

“Mark? What mark?” Frodo heard Bilbo question. “I just had this painted a week ago!”

“Yes, well I left one there all the same.” Gandalf answered, and Thorin finally seemed to notice Bilbo for the first time. “Bilbo, allow me to introduce the leader of our company: Thorin Oakenshield.”

“So,” The leader stated, rounding on Bilbo before he could even properly greet himself. “This is the hobbit. Tell me, what’s your weapon of choice?”

“Um, pardon?”

“Axe or sword?” Thorin continued, circling Bilbo. “Do you have any skill?”

“I have some skill with a blade.” Frodo heard Bilbo answer, and he beamed with pride. “And I am excellent at conkers, but I don’t see what that has to do with anything.”

Frodo fought the urge to beam his head against the wall. Truly, did Bilbo have to say such things? If his Uncle actually said something like that to Thorin, he was no longer surprised over the fact that they didn’t get along in the beginning.

“Well, I will admit that is more than I expected.” Thorin conceded, a smirk playing on his features. “Although, he still looks more like a grocer than a burglar.”

Frodo saw red at the condescending manner at which Thorin was staring at Bilbo, and at how the company laughed at his expense. How dare they! How dare _he_!

“How _dare_ you!” He snapped before he could stop himself, and he quickly covered his mouth despite knowing that it was too late.

Everyone had turned to look towards the wall he had tucked himself behind. Most were confused and startled, understandably so. But Dwalin merely muttered about hobbit cousins acting like spouses, Balin grinned rather cheekily, and Fíli and Kíli seemed rather gobsmacked.

“Who was that?” One of the dwarves asked.

“It would seem that we have another guest.” Gandalf answered. “One I did not know of…”

“Oh, that’s not a guest, Master Gandalf.” Balin supplied.

“Then who are you?” Thorin demanded. “Show yourself! If you have courage to speak against royalty, then you should have the courage to face me as well!”

Frodo swallowed hard, knowing he truly mucked things up. But he had faced orcs, goblins, Nazgul, a giant spider, and plenty other evils during his own adventure. What was one dwarf compared to all that?

So, with head held high, he stepped around and revealed himself. The company murmured, save those Frodo had already greeted, but he was more focused on Thorin. Thorin, whose face had gone slightly slack as his brow smoothed out.

“I am Frodo Baggins, cousin of Bilbo Baggins.” He finally stated. “And you, dwarf, have insulted my kin!”

“Frodo-!” Bilbo tried to cut in, but Gandalf rested a firm hand on his shoulder as Thorin moved to stand in front of the younger hobbit.

“Is that so?” Thorin asked, and Frodo had to fight the urge to roll his eyes. Were dwarves really so foolish? 

“We are your hosts, and you are our guests!” Frodo answered. “We have taken you in and provided you with food, ale, and future beds to rest in. Then here you go, making demands of a hobbit that no good burglar could fulfill, and then you have the gall to call him a grocer!”

Something sparked in the King’s eyes before he narrowed his brows. “And tell me, Master Baggins,” He said, “How can a burglar be a good one if he lacked simple fighting skills?”

Frodo dared a step closer, narrowing his own brows as well. “Because a good burglar doesn’t _need_ them.” He answered. “When a burglar is good, they are never caught. When they are never caught, they never have to fight. And when they never have to fight, they have no real use for weapons save for some basic skill.”

The murmurs began again, and Frodo couldn’t help but feel a little swell of glee when he saw Gandalf’s eyes twinkling with suppressed laughter. 

“Now,” Frodo continued. “I think you should apologize. We have offered you shelter and food, after all. That, and being courteous, is the least that you can do.”

One of Dwalin’s brows had quirked, and Frodo couldn’t help but notice how pale the two youngest dwarves seemed to have gotten. For a brief moment, Frodo feared for his life. He had spoken out against a king, after all, and gave him a thorough tongue-lashing. Perhaps he would regret what he had said in a few short seconds.

Instead, Thorin’s jaw twitched slightly, as if firming it for a blow. “Very well.”

Frodo frowned, for there was no way it could be that easy to force an apology from a dwarf. They were a stubborn race, after all. Not to mention that, as his Uncle used to say, Thorin was the most stubborn of the entire race.

He felt his eyebrows crawl into his hairline when the dwarf in front of him bowed deeply, hand extended as if waiting to grasp another.

“I deeply apologize for any insult I have inadvertently expressed upon you and your family.” Thorin stated, a little louder than what was strictly necessary. “Please accept my most humble apologies.”

Despite his words, Frodo couldn’t help but feel like Thorin’s apology was anything but sincere. So instead of extending his own hand to clasp the dwarf’s in acceptance, he merely crossed his arms, staring down at the dwarf’s head. 

After a few moment’s pause, he seemed to finally realize that Frodo was not going to respond, and Thorin looked up at him, brow furrowed slightly.

“Is there a problem, Mister Baggins?” He asked. “Is my apology not good enough for you?”

Frodo glared at him, for he _knew_ it wasn’t as easy as it seemed.

“No.” He quipped. “For you are apologizing to the wrong hobbit.”

If anything, Thorin’s expression darkened as lowered his hand, straightening himself back up to look down at him.

“Fine.” Thorin quipped right back, and Frodo couldn’t help but think that he was taking far too long to turn and face Bilbo. This time, he merely inclined his head.

“My apologies.” He simply stated. “I did not mean insult.”

Despite how very different this apology was in comparison to the one he tried to pay Frodo, Bilbo still seemed rather thrown by getting an apology at all.

“Well, erm…” He muttered. “Apology accepted…?”

Thorin nodded, turning back to Frodo. “Better?”

He fought the urge to roll his eyes, for now he understood how this dwarf seemed to do little on the negotiating front. Truly, with the way he was behaving, Frodo was starting to think that he wasn’t so much a King as he was a very large, ridiculously handsome dwarf-child.

“I suppose.” He stated, voice dropping into a murmur. “Better than what I was expecting, anyway.”

Kíli had heard him despite trying to keep quiet, for he snorted rather loudly. Thankfully, the others didn’t hear him, for they looked between the two in confusion.

“Well, I do believe there’s still some stew left.” Bilbo cut in, trying to distract them. “Perhaps you would like to sit and eat? I also think we might still have some ale for you.”

Thorin seemed a little surprised that Bilbo had addressed him, let alone offered him food, drink, and a place to sit at the table. Frodo fought the urge to grin, even as Thorin quickly glanced towards his direction before nodding.

“If it wouldn’t be too much trouble.” He finally responded and Bilbo nodded quickly, ushering Thorin towards the dining room, the company following close behind. Before he disappeared, he sent Frodo a look that was most likely meant to chastise him, but also held a hint of thankfulness. He merely grinned at him as they disappeared, only to belatedly realize that Gandalf had stayed behind and was looking at him with a curious twinkle in his eyes.

Any other time, he would’ve been happy, because it was _Gandalf_. But now, he was worried, because the wizard had never looked at him like that. Like he was a puzzle that needed to be solved.

“Frodo Baggins,” He drawled. “Have we met?”

“No.” Frodo replied, for it was truth. And they hadn’t met, or at least, not _yet_. “But I’ve heard of you.”

“You’ve heard of me?” Gandalf asked, and Frodo nearly panicked at the strange light in his eyes.

“Well, of course!” He answered, grinning. “Who doesn’t know of Master Gandalf and his fireworks!”

Gandalf seemed to ease a little. “I suppose that’s-.” He started, grunting when his head collided with the chandelier, causing Frodo to smother his laughter as he moved to join the others.

For some things never changed.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Quests are discussed (or at least one) and Frodo continues to try to help Bilbo, much to his chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY IT'S BEEN A WHILE! Been kinda stumped, plus trying to go off reference via a script I found. This is mostly based off the movies, after all. We also get a peak at how Frodo deals with mentions of fighting and that fun stuff.
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY!

Thorin was served some stew, bread, ale, and was presented with a plateful of whatever biscuits were left from Dwalin’s earlier pilfering. Frodo couldn’t help but find amusement in the way the warrior still seemed to watch them and fidget with them. They had all adjourned to the dining room, though he hung by the entrance with Bilbo as they conversed.

“What news from the meeting in Ered Luin?” Balin asked as Thorin continued to eat, and Frodo fought down a cringe, for it was always considered bad manners to talk about such things over a meal. “Did they come?”

“Aye.” Thorin confirmed quietly, and it was quite clear from his tone it wasn’t a good thing. “Envoys from all seven kingdoms.”

Despite the tone, they seemed to be rather pleased. All except Dwalin, who looked towards him.

“What do the dwarrow from the Iron Hills say?” He asked. “Are they with us?”

“They will not come.” Thorin told him, and the joy evaporated from the room. “They say that this quest is ours… And ours alone.”

“You’re going on a quest?” Bilbo asked, and Gandalf turned to him.

“Bilbo, my dear fellow, could you bring us a bit more light?” He asked, and as he moved to light a candle, Frodo felt his stomach flip as Gandalf pulled a map from within his robes. A map he had seen a number of times behind glass and within a frame. 

Unable to resist a peek at what it looked like now (well, truly, back then), he stepped closer, leaning over Thorin slightly, not really caring if the dwarf was annoyed or not. Thankfully, he didn’t even seem to notice. Gandalf, however, did, and Frodo only stole a glimpse at him to see that strange twinkle in his eye before they all focused back on the map, Bilbo holding the candle over it in order to better read it.

“Far to the east, over ranges and rivers, beyond woodlands and wastelands, lies a solitary peak.” Gandalf explained.

“The Lonely Mountain?” Bilbo read, tilting his head as he continued to examine it. 

“Aye.” A dwarf confirmed, and Frodo looked up, only to do a double-take, because this dwarf looked quite a bit like Gimli. “Oin has read the portents, and the portents say it is time!”

“Ravens have been seen flying back to the mountain as it was foretold.” Oin (or at least Frodo thought it was Oin) explained over groans. “’When the birds of yore return to Erebor, the reign of the beast will end!”

“Portents?” Frodo couldn’t help but ask. “What kind of things are those?”

“You don’t want to know…” Balin muttered, and Frodo felt even more curious, but also a little horrified.

“Uh…” Bilbo muttered. “What beast?”

“Well that would be a reference to Smaug the Terrible.” Another dwarf explained, and Bilbo couldn’t help but note that he had the most peculiar hat. “Greatest calamity of our age. Airborne fire-breather, teeth like razors, claws like meathooks, extremely fond of precious metals…”

“Yes, I know what a dragon is.” Bilbo cut in, clearly fidgeting. 

“I’m not afraid! I’m up for it!” A dwarf cried, shooting up from his seat, and oh, he looked far too young for such a quest. “I’ll give him a taste of dwarfish iron right up its jacksie!”

There was more mumbling, even as a dwarf yanked him back down into his chair by his arm. Dori, if Frodo could recall, from what he heard from Gandalf earlier when the dwarf tried to offer the wizard tea. Now that he thought of it, though, Dori seemed rather dejected when he turned it down, getting back at Gandalf by offering him a tiny sample of wine. 

Now, Frodo couldn’t help but wonder just what kind of attentions Gandalf seemed to draw, and whether or not he responded.

He thought it was best not to dwell on it for too long.

“The task would be difficult enough with an army behind us.” Balin stated. “But we only number thirteen, and not thirteen of the best, nor the brightest.”

Such a statement caused an uproar, as many were clearly insulted by the elder dwarf’s jibe. All except a few, and one of them spoke over the uproar.

“We may be few in number, but we’re fighters!” Fili cried. “All of us, to the last dwarf!”

“And you forget that we’ve got a wizard in our company!” Kíli cut in excitedly. “Gandalf will have killed hundreds of dragons in his time!”

Frodo couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow, for no matter how powerful Gandalf was, he couldn’t really see the wizard as much of a dragon fighter.

“Oh, well…” Gandalf muttered around his pipe, and Frodo felt like his thoughts were confirmed. “Now, I-I wouldn’t say…”

“How many, then?” Dori asked.

“Pardon?”

“How many dragons have you killed?”

Gandalf answered with silence, pipeweed smoke leaking through his nose and mouth as he hummed.

The dwarves, of course, didn’t react well to such an answer, for it started another uproar. This time, some of them even got up from their seats.

“Oh, good-! Will you please sit down!” Frodo cried, grumbling when no one listened. “I-I’m sure you don’t need to-!”

“ _Shazara _!” Thorin shouted, launching from his seat, and Frodo looked up at him, just as everyone else did as they went quiet. “If we have read these signs, do you not think others will have read them too? Rumors have begun to spread. The dragon Smaug has not been seen for 60 years. Eyes look east to the Mountain, assessing, wondering, and weighing the risk. Perhaps the vast wealth of our people now lies unprotected! Do we sit back while others claim what is rightfully ours? Or do we seize this chance to take back Erebor?”__

__The dwarves cheered at his words, and they began to chant with renewed vigor. Frodo couldn’t help but marvel at how easy it was for Thorin, this dwarf, to be so commanding and be able to rally them all. Even if their group was small._ _

__“You forget that the front gate is sealed.” Balin cut in. “There is no way into the mountain.”_ _

__It had only gone quiet and subdued long enough for Thorin to sit back down and for Gandalf to fish about in his robes._ _

__“That, my dear Balin, is not entirely true.”_ _

__With that, he pulled a key from his person, holding it towards Thorin, who gazed at it with wide eyes. Clearly, it was a rather important key. Of course, considering the conversation, Frodo was certain that it unlocked the secret door into the mountain. The one his Uncle told him about in his stories._ _

__“How did you come by this?” Thorin breathed, even as he took the key._ _

__“It was given to me by Thrain, your father, for safekeeping.” Gandalf explained, even as Thorin held it up for inspection. “It is yours now.”_ _

__“If there’s a key…” Fíli murmured. “There must be a door.”_ _

__Frodo only felt his brows quirk, for such information seemed rather obvious. Truly, what else were keys supposed to do?_ _

__“These runes speak of a passage into the lower halls…” Gandalf explained, gesturing to said runes on the map._ _

__“There’s another way in!” Kíli stated happily, and Frodo couldn’t help but think stating the obvious runs in the family._ _

__“Well, if we can find it, but dwarf doors are invisible when closed.” Gandalf continued as if not interrupted, even though he sent the young dwarf a look. “The answer lies hidden somewhere in this map and I do not have the skill to find it. But there are others in Middle-earth who can. The task I have in mind will require a great deal of stealth, and no small amount of courage. But, if we are careful, and clever, I believe that it can be done.”_ _

__“That’s why we need a burglar!” The dwarf who had said he’d shove iron up a dragon’s “jacksie” stated, and Frodo heard Bilbo hum._ _

__“Oh, yes.” He stated. “And a good one at that!”_ _

__“And are you?” The Gimli-lookalike asked, causing Bilbo to pause._ _

__Bilbo looked at him, frowning a little. “Am I what?”_ _

__“He says he’s an expert!” A dwarf cheered, and several of the others laughed as Bilbo seemed to pale._ _

__“W-Wha?” Bilbo sputtered. “No! No, no, no! I’m not a burglar! I’ve never stolen a thing in my life!”_ _

__“Yes, you have.” Frodo argued, grinning despite Bilbo’s glare. “I recall countless tales of your exploits. Particularly when it came to a certain Sackville-Baggins relative…”_ _

__There was a humming through the company, and Frodo couldn’t help but grin at the face of Bilbo’s sputtering. He knew that Bilbo was trying to get out of it, despite him saying that he wouldn’t. And while he might’ve been stretching the truth just a tad, Frodo knew that it was the only way that it could be done._ _

__“W-Well, that might be true…” Bilbo muttered before hardening his stare even further. “But you’re just as experienced as I am! Possibly even moreso!”_ _

__The company murmured even more, even as Frodo felt his back stiffen. For he had been so careful as to not reveal his tale to this version of his Uncle, he knew Bilbo had, at least, an inkling of what he’d done before showing up at his door. Something he’d rather not talk about._ _

__“No offense, laddies,” Balin cut in. “But neither of you seem be burglar material.”_ _

__Bilbo gave a short not, and Frodo sent him a look, even as Dwalin spoke up from his spot at the table._ _

__“Aye, the wild is no place for gentlefolk who can neither fight nor fend for themselves.”_ _

__Something hard settled in Frodo’s gut, and the words spilled from his lips before he could stop them._ _

__“Believe me, Master Dwalin.” He told the warrior. “I have.”_ _

__Arguing broke out at the table, and Frodo did his best to ignore the looks he garnered from those around him. From Dwalin, Bilbo, even _Thorin_. It didn’t matter, since it quickly grew hard to see, and certainly hard to hear, when Gandalf deigned it fit to speak again._ _

__“ _Silence_!” The wizard bellowed, sending them all reeling back. “If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, than a burglar he is!”_ _

__Frodo swallowed hard, even as Gandalf settled and the light seemed to slowly flood back. The quiet echoed in his ears to the point he thought he’d gone deaf, and as he itched at one, he remembered quite clearly why he hated it when Gandalf got testy._ _

__“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet. In fact, they can pass unseen by most if they choose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of hobbit is all but unknown to him, which gives us a distinct advantage.” Gandalf continued in a more normal tone of voice. “You have asked me to locate the fourteenth member of your company, and I have chosen Mister Baggins. There’s a great deal more to him than appearances suggest, and he’s got a lot more to offer than any of you know, including himself…”_ _

__Frodo took that moment to send Bilbo a pointed look, trying to tell him that, in some way, Gandalf was right. Regardless of what he thought of himself now, he would certainly become quite valuable._ _

__“Of course, I did not expect the possibility of a fifteenth member,” Gandalf continued, and Frodo froze, for that didn’t bode well. “I’m certain Frodo Baggins is just as valuable to us as Bilbo, and seeing as they’re cousins, one will not go without the other. Provided, of course, he is willing.”_ _

__“W-What?” He stammered, unable to stop himself, and there was a light in Bilbo’s eyes that seemed to reflect in some of the others, and Frodo felt the color drain from his face. The odd twinkle in Gandalf’s eyes didn’t help either. For Frodo certainly didn’t expect this when he agreed to help his Uncle-but-not-quite-yet._ _

__And he knew, then, that he should’ve just stayed in his room and kept his mouth shut._ _

**Author's Note:**

> What possible romances/pairings shall be in this fic? You'll NEVER KNOW!!!!... Until I actually post them up, and THEN you'll know. BUT ONLY THEN!!!


End file.
